I’ve given up. I can’t stand it anymore. The days drag by. I’m choked by food, the daylight that shouts at me every morning to get up. The sleep which is only dreams that chase me. Or the darkness that rustles with ghosts and memories. Has it ever occurred to you that the worse off people are, the less they complain? In the end, they’re quite silent. They’re living creatures with nerves, eyes, and hands, vast armies of victims. The light that rises and falls heavily. The cold that comes. The darkness. The heat. The smell. They are all silent.